


So look me in the eyes, tell me what you see (perfect paradise tearing at the seams)

by Gingersnaps (K___P)



Series: mcyt hell [13]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blue Sonder AU, Dadza, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Oneshot, Technoblade's Chat, the other works in the series have no bearing on this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K___P/pseuds/Gingersnaps
Summary: Being the Demon King, naturally, comes with its perks and drawbacks. From the moment he claimed the throne, Techno has been hearing voices in his head, calling for blood to be spilt.Normally, he does a good job at controlling them. Normally, nothing goes wrong.OR: the one in which everything goes wrong, wilbur, tommy and tubbo get hurt, and nobody knows how to handle it
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit, Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: mcyt hell [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065980
Comments: 5
Kudos: 203





	So look me in the eyes, tell me what you see (perfect paradise tearing at the seams)

**Author's Note:**

> Help this has been a WIP for like a month and I just . Chugged out 1k+ words in the past hour bc I wanted to finish this 
> 
> Please don't let my sleep deprived shit make this flop I beg 
> 
> I spent longer tryna figure out what song to use for the title bc I have RWBY brainrot rn but like . The lyrics r so sexy I wanna use em l8r. Pain

When he became the King of Hell, Techno hadn't been entirely prepared for the overwhelming voices that came with the title.

At first, he hadn't realised anything had changed; directly after the fight, he'd collapsed into Wilbur's arms, and chalked his headache up to the immense injuries he'd sustained. According to his brother, he'd never properly woken up, drifting in and out of consciousness for a week or two.

There was something he didn't tell him, though, and Techno could tell. It was in the way he didn't look the newly-crowned King in the eyes, in the way he had an arm wrapped in bandages despite not being in combat. It was in the way voices in the back of his mind hissed at him, protective and jeering and truthful all at once. 

Over time, he'd brushed it off; neither demon pried into the other's business unless it was life-threatening, and besides, they had something more important to deal with. He'd woken up one day with thousands of screams overlapping, and barely let out a grunt before dropping to the floor.

It had woken Wilbur up from his catnap, which he would've felt bad about, if not for the fact he couldn't think straight over the cacophony of noise in his head. With a grimace, his brother had raised a particularly heavy-looking tome and brought it down against his head.

When he next awoke, the voices had quietened down into a low chatter. He and Wilbur were free to talk it out in the echoing halls of the Demon King's Palace, even though they felt much more comfortable under a tree in the garden.

(In hell, trees were very different to those of the Overworld. For one, the most common were covered with willowy crimson vines, nether wart sprouting from the gnarled bark, and densely populated with pig-faced demons. 

Their counterparts were forests of blue and sea green, deceptively delicate-looking, almost eerily abandoned except for the occasional prowling Ender. They weren't human, nor demon or angel. All that was known about them was that they were dangerous, and that looking straight at them was a death sentence.

Wilbur had scoffed, looked one dead in the eye, and spent the next twenty minutes in a teleporting match with the Ender. Techno hadn't offered sympathy.)

Despite likely being some of the most powerful demons in the Kingdom (relatively - Wilbur was happy to laze around, so they weren't sure), their ultimate plan for dealing with the voices - Chat, as they were dubbed - was the thickest book around.

Under threat of a mild concussion, the Chat kept itself as contained as it could. For years, that was how it went on.

Naturally, everything would go wrong at the one time he doesn't want it to.

\---

It happens during training, when Techno is dodging and weaving between Tommy's amateur (pathetic) swings. They were doing a regular duel, though they'd raised the stakes a little: if Techno won, Tommy had to stay as a child demon for a week; if Tommy won, he got to mess with Techno's hair whenever he wanted for a week. Neither of them wanted to lose, and the tension had Tubbo sitting by the door, eyes wide.

Tommy's grin turns arrogant, and he lunges forwards, momentarily disappearing from Techno's view as he begins to parry. In the split second it takes for him to locate Tommy - he'd turned himself into a baby, the little fucker - the younger demon has launched himself up, bringing his blade up too.

With all the grace and agility of one called the Demon King, Techno avoids the blow with ease. His hair, on the other hand, does not.

All three of them watch as his severed braid drops to the floor, leaving Techno's head feeling lighter and expression way, way too exposed. Across from him, Tommy lets out a shrill, nervous laugh, glancing from the braid, to Tubbo, to Techno.

"'Ey, big man, no hard feelings, right?" He calls, false bravado leaking into his words as he stammers over his syllables. His words don't register. Techno isn't listening.

He's too busy staring at the braid on the floor, voices in his head halfway to overwhelming.

(Phil did that Phil did your hair for you Tommy broke it Tommy ruined it Blood for the blood god Phil is going to be angry What if Phil gets hurt because of this Tommy fucked up Blood for the blood god Blood for the blood g-)

He sees red, and his grip adjusts on the sword in his hand.

Blood for the blood god.

\---

He comes to at the sight of Phil's eyes narrowed in disappointment and thinly veiled concern. God, he hates seeing Phil disappointed in him - it made his throat swell with shame, made him want to wallow in the cruellest pit in the Nether for the rest of his days.

Phil is saying something, he thinks. What's he saying? Techno can't hear anything. Is that normal? Can he normally not hear anything? His brain is too scrambled to tell.

Where's Wilbur? He'd know what Phil was saying, right?

He opened his mouth to say as such, but found that the words wouldn't come out; how did he word the sentence, again? His head was too quiet, nothing springing readily to his tongue, so closed his mouth again.

Where's Tommy? He never shut up - he'd know how to speak, right?

Why was he alone again?

\---

Wilbur enjoyed using his ability; it's a good ability, in all fairness. Easily one of the best that he knows of. It has a wide spread of talents, suitable for any situation. Need a speedy escape? On it. Forgot something at home? Easiest remedy known to man.

Need to rescue your two younger brothers from your other brother, who's gone on a murderous rampage?

...Well. He didn't have much experience with the latter, but so far it had a hundred percent success rate, so he figured it was fine.

What wasn't fine, of course, was the fact that the entire right side of his body was completely and utterly numb, even as he watched blood ooze sluggishly from some nasty-looking gashes. Absently, he figured that Techno must've bled on him at some point, what with the cauterised scar on his abdomen.

All in all, better than it could've been.

...Tommy's shrill voice seemed to suggest otherwise, high-pitched as he shouted at Tubbo while he bandaged his wounds. His torso was leaning towards mincemeat, probably a result of being caught off guard by Techno's claws.

Of all of them, Tubbo had gained the fewest injuries, having launched himself into the air once Techno started attacking Tommy in earnest. His only (visible) ailments were a long stretch of burns that spread over the back of his left wing, from where he had protected Tommy. Even so, Wilbur's chest ached every time he saw the fallen angel wince, adjusting his posture so his wing didn't drag.

Now that he was aware enough to register what was going on around him, instead of trying not to puke, he figured it was a good idea to figure out where the fuck they were. While they were still surrounded by trees and foliage, they were much sparser than those that surrounded Phil's home, and dappled sunlight broke through the leaves.

So. They're really far from home, huh. God, this sucks.

The training session had taken place at ... dawn, he thinks? He'd missed out on its start because he was asleep, so dawn was a safe bet. And now, from how the sunlight turned the leaves around them gold, it must be at least midday. So either the sparring had gone on for a while, Tommy's persistence starting set after set, or ...

He frowned. Or they'd been here for much longer than he realised.

That option was decidedly less favourable, given that it meant their - or at list his - injuries were worse than he'd thought, and that they had been effectively missing for who knows how long. Leaving Phil to deal with a feral Techno wasn't ideal, even if he stood a better chance of bringing him down than any of the others.

Wilbur twists at his tail, casting a careful glance back at their surroundings. From where he was awkwardly slumped against a tree stump, the edges of the forest were visible. Fields stretched out endlessly, rolling plains blending seamlessly into the distant horizon, green into turquoise into blue.

Nothing like the reds and greys and whites of Hell, bordering on claustrophobic as the ceiling pressed in. 

(If he was honest, he almost preferred Hell; his family was up here, so he'd probably never leave, but his first family had been there. His first family had him following a sky-blue tinted grin and sharp ram's horns, mapping out the terrain and crouching in alleys.

Everything in Hell was familiar to him, whether it be from moving place to place, setting up new scams, or from dragging their broken bodies away from whatever crater they'd caused. Bridges and houses and sheds were scattered along the barest places of Hell, accessible only through his power.

Nobody reached them anymore; those he had created them for had left.

He had never told his new family about the ragtag group he'd found before, simply shrugging when Techno asked him, the same way the King avoided bright blue. Ask no questions and ye shall receive no lies, after all.)

"We should get going," he says eventually, tearing his gaze away from the glistening river just past the treeline. Tubbo glanced up at him with a firm nod, but stumbled as he tried to stand. Wilbur winced as he, too, almost collapsed as soon as he stood up.

Tommy took that as his cue to let out the loudest, highest shriek known to man, more for the thrill of it than anything else, and Wilbur wanted to bash his skull against a tree. God, he hated this child.

He wrapped an arm around Tommy's shoulders, hefting most of the weight onto his relatively unharmed side. The idea of letting Tubbo do this just felt ... Wrong, especially now that he was injured. Even with some sort of boosted strength, he was still a child.

In near silence, they walked, stopping every five minutes to catch their breath and curse out whatever gods they could think of. Both Wilbur and Tommy were surprised (and a little impressed) at how much Tubbo could swear. He'd just blinked at them and grinned.

\---

It had been a little over twelve hours since his boys' disappearance, and Phil was getting antsy. He couldn't very well leave Techno alone, confused and disoriented and regretful as he was, but ...

He glanced back outside, fingers tapping on the counter. His wings ruffled. Behind him, Techno muttered something under his breath. 

The clock ticked. The tap dripped. Techno's tail flicked.

Phil forced himself to turn around, away from where he had been scanning the forest for the umpteenth time. It wouldn't do him any good to watch the window obsessively for who knew how long. Besides, he still had a job to do here.

After all, Techno still hadn't moved from where he was slumped on the sofa, hands clutching a cold mug and eyes fixed to a spot to the left of the mantle piece. All traces of blood and guts had been washed from his skin, and his clothes had been changed, but he was still on-edge.

"....Techno, mate," he starts softly, voice carrying easily in the oddly silent house. "D'you want me to fix up your hair?"

A barely-there nod is the only answer he gets, but it's the best one, all things considered, and so he goes to fetch some sharp scissors and a towel. When he gets back, the only visible change was a slightly straightened back. He sighed.

"Alright, mate, I'm gonna neaten it up a bit, and we can fix it proper in the morning. 'S that okay?" As expected, he only gets a single snort, but gets to work anyway.

\---

The clock ticks on. Midnight comes and goes. 

Techno and Phil curl up on a large bed together. Neither of them sleep, listening out for the door to creak.

Light peeks through the window; they had forgotten to draw the blinds the night before. They couldn't bring themselves to care.

\---

"I'm going to burn these fuckin' trees down, Wil, I swear to god, this is so _shit_." Tommy snapped, feet tapping impatiently on the forest floor. "Why the fuck are there so many trees?! Surely Phil won't miss one or two-"

"Tommy," Tubbo started, eerily calm, "if you burn down the forest, I will ask Niki to hunt you down."

There was a moment of panicked spluttering from Tommy, and Wilbur had to hold back a snort. Of everything to be scared of, the youngest demon had chosen to be afraid of _Niki_.

That wasn't to say Wilbur wasn't scared of Niki, though; he was deathly fucking terrified of her, and only made fun of Tommy to hide his own weakness.

But, still... "If you don't shut your trap, Toms, I'll actually leave you here and just bring Tubbo with me." He huffed, speaking over the little bastard.

Said little bastard gasped, as if scandalised, and would've definitely tried to fight him if he wasn't on the verge of death. "You fuckin' try, bitch, I'll have you know I trained with two Demon Kings-"

"Uh-huh." Tubbo rolled his eyes, smacking Tommy with his wing. "Let Wilbur concentrate, or you'll never get to live up to that."

"I TOLD YOU IT'S-"

"Got it," Wilbur said, almost breathless in his relief, and grabs the other two's arms.

They disappear with cut-off screams.

\---

With a crack, the three of them reappear in Wilbur's room, about two feet off the floor. Before they (Tommy) can utter a single statement ("fuck"), they're crashing to the floor, and Tubbo lets out the longest and most colourful string of curses they've ever heard.

For a moment, none of them move, simply happy to be home. Wilbur had never thought he'd miss the mustard-yellow sheets on his bed, nor the orca plush resting on his pillows, nor the mirror hung up on the opposite wall, offering a perfect view of the clock-

"Oh fuck," he whispers softly. Tommy and Tubbo send him identical expressions, mouth twisted in a question. He doesn't pay them attention. "It's been, like, a day. Phil's gonna be _pissed_ we missed chores."

That has the other two paling as well, exchanging wide eyes over Wilbur's slumped form. "Oh, fuck," Tommy says, and Tubbo can only agree.

"Fuck indeed."

Crashing footsteps draw rapidly closer, and the door is flung open.

Wilbur digs his hands into his face, groaning.

\---

All the air rushes from Techno's lunge the moment he catches sight of the three of them, sitting together on Wilbur's carpet. Relief overwhelms him, knowing they're safe and alive, but then-

Wilbur pushes himself upwards to meet his gaze, and, god, there's a cruel scar running down his cheek, his neck, all the way under his shirt. Along his right arm, the sleeves are ripped and burned, skin halfway to charred, and his leg and torso don't seem to be faring much better.

Even so, his face lights up upon seeing Techno, form flickering for a split second before appearing a metre above him. Muscle memory does the actions before he remembers to, and he's suddenly cradling his brother to him.

He's suddenly trying not to puke at the mess that is Wilbur's right side, easily recognising the gashes and burns as ones of his own doing. 

(He didn't remember much, if any, of the training session after his hair was cut. All he knew was that there were patches of gore under his long nails.)

Both of them opened their mouth to say something, albeit a little lethargically on Wilbur's end, when Tommy clears his throat as obnoxiously as possible.

"I think I'm dying here, can I get some help? Or are you just gonna ignore me and small T?"

Wilbur leaned into his shoulder. "I say we just let him sort it out himself, and help Tubbo instead." Techno snorted, tilting his head as though he was considering it.

"Well, the house would be a lot quieter..."

Phil walks into the room carrying an extensive first aid case to Tommy's outraged shrieks and the others' low chuckling.

It tugs a smile from his lips, and he finds he doesn't mind.

\---

Later that night, the four of them curl up on Techno's bed. Wilbur and Techno, as the oldest, go on either side, while Tommy and Tubbo sprawl out where ever they see fit. In the darkness, their injuries should be less visible, but ...

Thanks to heightened senses, he can make out the depth of the slashes on Tommy's torso, no restraint whatsoever. Like he was going in for the kill. Wilbur was much the same, grimacing when nobody was looking.

"...anyone awake?" He tries, wondering if they'd still react to him. For a second, nobody responds, and he's gripped with the terror that they hate him, don't want to talk to him-

Wilbur's arm stretches over their middle quarry (Tubbo, this night), to intertwine their fingers. Tommy snores, knocking his bandaged back against his own. Tubbo just sighs contentedly, wing brushing his cheek.

\---

It was nice, not having to live like everyone hated him (they did) or wanted to kill him (they tried).

With Phil, they were as safe as safe could be, away from all the demon politics and scorned ex-kings. Their little family had grown, and, unnecessary as it may be, Techno had sworn to protect them all for as long as necessary.

(He hated the fact that he could just lose control one day, and put his family in danger, but they didn't seem to mind.

They just smile, laughed, and ruffled his hair, tugged at his ponytail, anything to distract him.

It was nice.)

**Author's Note:**

> Poggahs luv


End file.
